


Midwinter

by suspiciousteapot



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touchstone brings back the traditions of an old midwinter festival from his time, and Sabriel remembers the midwinter festival celebrated in Ancelstierre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> So here's me trying to write a holiday fic. Hope you all enjoy. As always, please do leave kudos and/or comments, be they because you liked the story or because you have constructive criticism.  
> All of the things belong to Garth Nix.  
> Happy holidays and happy New Year!

As Sabriel entered the inn, she was greeted by the familiar call of “Message! Message for the Abhorsen!” The cry came from a message hawk that was perched behind the innkeeper. She greeted the innkeeper and extended an arm to the bird.

“I am the Abhorsen.” Though she had said the phrase often enough these past months, it still made her uneasy. It was the truth, but she wondered if it would ever stop feeling partially like a lie.

The bird cocked its head, studying her, before accepting that she was the one for whom its words were intended and hopping onto her proffered arm. 

“You may relay your message to me upstairs.” She told it.

It would be from Touchstone, she knew. Since they’d settled in Belisaere and she’d begun to leave on her frequent missions to fight the Dead, they sent each other messages at least once a week, if not more frequently. Usually the messages were written, but from time to time Touchstone would send one of the new palace message hawks so she could hear his voice, and he hers.

This trip was turning out to be one of her longest, and she could hear Touchstone’s growing worry for her in his messages. Sabriel had been in Gardil for the past week and in nearby villages for the past two months. A necromancer had been plaguing the villagers with Hands and Shadows Hands for a month before she could make it to them. He seemed to be trying more daring spells and raising more powerful creatures as she drew nearer to him and he grew more desperate. 

She hoped the necromancer would himself be weakened by the time she faced him, though she would not fight him alone, not while she was six months pregnant. Once her pursuit of the necromancer had lasted more than a month and a half, she asked Touchstone to send three of the contingent of the Royal Guard she had trained to fight the Dead and other creatures when she could not, and they had arrived a week ago. She had been worried that he might send more, or tell her that she should return to Belisaere and leave the task to the guards, but as always he had respected her judgment and sent her the help she judged she needed. 

Today she and the guards finished off a Mordicant he’d made. Luckily it was a fairly weak one, for the necromancer’s strength was not yet great enough to make one with more than a third of the strength most Mordicants possessed. It had still been very difficult, due both to her pregnancy and because this was the first time the Guard had faced a Mordicant, so it had been a learning experience for them.

She had not planned on staying afield so long, but she could not bring herself to leave the Guard to deal with a necromancer as their first task. She felt more confident in leaving them to deal with such matters after they had faced the Mordicant with her, though there remained the ever-present problem that they could not enter Death, as she could. However this was to be her last trip for some time, as it was becoming quite difficult to do anything so far into her pregnancy, and of course it was also becoming more dangerous to pursue her work in her condition. 

Wearily she sank into the large armchair by the window in her room. The hawk hopped off of her arm onto the windowsill, once again informing her that it had a message for the Abhorsen. 

“Yes, I know. What is your message?” Sabriel prompted.

The hawk peeped once more and then focused its attention on her, and a very different voice came from its beak.

“Sabriel. I miss you keenly and hope you are well.”

As always, it was bizarre to hear Touchstone’s voice coming from the hawk’s beak. His voice always fanned her desire for him and she found it somewhat unsettling to be aroused while staring at a bird. She looked out the window, trying instead to picture his face.

“How goes your struggle with the necromancer? How are you feeling? How is the babe?

All is well with me. I still check on the Stones, out of habit I suppose, but all remains well on that front.”

Touchstone had finished repairing the Great Charter Stones in the reservoir a couple of weeks ago. Sabriel had almost been sorry for it, though she immediately felt guilty for thinking it. She had wanted to help him with the task, to be with him when it was done, to celebrate with him. But that had not been possible. She was needed elsewhere and, as always, she had to be the Abhorsen first. Besides, she had been immensely relieved to learn that Touchstone was no longer alone, working with potentially lethal spells that neither them nor anyone else understood. Leaving him last time knowing that she might not see him again, that the messages might stop coming, or worse, that a message would come bearing news of his death, had been nigh on impossible.

“Some emissaries from the land just north of The Rift came yesterday. They were not openly hostile, but I do not believe they were completely honest either. I’ll tell you more about when you return, but suffice it to say that I think we shall have to keep a closer eye on the goings on up there, if we have time.” He laughed. Needless to say, time was not something they had in abundance.

“That being said, I have actually made time for something. In my day, there was a festival called the Festival of Light. It celebrated the Charter as the light that protects against the darkness and the Dead. Though I’ve heard that people still light special lanterns for it as they did in my time, the festival seems to have died out after Kerrigor rose. I suppose it was because after a while it seemed like a cruel joke to celebrate the light and protection of the Charter. So I’ve begun plans to bring it back. It seems like everyone could use a celebration, and Charter knows we have much to celebrate. The festival begins in a month and goes for 12 days, ending on the longest night of the year. I…I am very much looking forward to celebrating it with you. I hope you are well, and that I will see you soon. Be safe. I love you.”

The hawk peeped, indicating that the message was over.

Sabriel continued to stare out of the window, now remembering a different celebration, one she had enjoyed a little over a year ago. Ever year since she was five, Sabriel had celebrated the midwinter festival of Yule with Ellimere and Sulyn and the other girls in their year. When they were little, they had celebrated with apple cider and a seemingly endless supply of cookies and other treats. When they were older, they had begun sneaking in special Yule ale from Bain. And without exception, every year, for 12 days, each girl would add decorations from her personal collection to the large pine trees that were set up on each floor of the dormitories and leave cards for each other in the decorated envelopes attached to their dressers. Less than a year ago, the winter had been a joyful time, one she always looked forward to. Now she barely had time to rest. She felt like she was making progress until autumn, when the Dead began to rise faster than the leaves fell. It was hard to imagine celebrating, even if she did have reasons to be joyful.

She sat for a while longer, contemplating how very different her life was from what she had expected it to be, before shaking herself out of it. Her life now was certainly more perilous than it had been, but that certainly did not mean it was unhappy. No, Touchstone was right in saying they had much to celebrate. 

“You not least.” She told her babe, resting a hand on her belly as the babe kicked in reply.

She spoke her reply to the hawk, ordered dinner, and added more to her plan of how to deal with the necromancer, before finally allowing herself to fall into a dreamless sleep.

During the following days, she asked her guards Ari, Gael and Han more about the Festival of Light. They did not remember the festival lasting 12 days, though it was likely because they could provide her with very little information at all concerning the festival. It seemed to be largely as Touchstone had explained; little was remembered, as it had long seemed pointless to celebrate the light when the world was so dark. Still she began to notice that people in Gardil were putting up Charter Lanterns in their windows.

“The lanterns for the festival, are they not?” Sabriel asked Ari.

“They are, Abhorsen. You make them for your loved ones, to shield them against the darkness. It would seem more people are putting them out this year. I’ve never seen so many.”

That people felt hope enough to resume that tradition was worth celebrating in and of itself, Sabriel reflected. She thought also about Ari’s comment that people made them for their loved ones. Should she make one for Touchstone? She decided she would, once she returned to Belisaere. The festival was clearly dear to him, and it would be nice to surprise him.

As it turned out, the necromancer had be weakened by his attempt to call beings that were beyond him, though he had exchanged most of his life for power as he sought to evade her. With the help or Ari, Gael and Han, cornering him and sending him past the Ninth Gate proved relatively straightforward.

Sabriel flew back to Belisaere a fortnight before the Festival of Light was to take place, her guards riding off to join with the rest of their unit to fight what she would no longer be able to for some time. 

She returned to find the Belisaere looking far better than she had left it. The last time she had left, there had still been a fair amount of rebuilding to be done, but that looked to be completed. She also noted that lanterns decorated almost every window in the city, making look as though she flew over a field of candles. It was beautiful, and she felt a sort of child-like excitement growing in her at the sight of it. Now that she could finally relax a bit, she was quite looking forward to the festival, even if it was not the midwinter festival that she held close to her heart.

\--

Sabriel looked out over the city from the window in their bedroom. The celebrations had begun that morning, but the night was when the festival truly began. It was truly stunning, full of an incredible variety of lights, decorations and music. The sounds of people celebrating reached her even through the window. 

She had made Touchstone a lantern, carefully designing the spell of light to create a unique lantern that she felt represented the light he brought to her life. He had been shocked to realize she had made one for him, and she had loved to see the joy it brought him. He, of course, had made one for her as well. It was a thoughtful, intricate design that had doubtless taken him long to create. She loved it. When they had exchanged them that morning, the first morning of the festival, she had felt only joy and hope. Yet as the day progressed, she could not help feeling a touch of sadness and grief, for Yule, the midwinter festival that she would no longer celebrate, and for Ellimere and the other girls who she would no longer celebrate it with. Now, looking over the city, she had figured out another part of that sadness. Beautiful though they were, the traditions of Festival if Light were not hers, and that reminded her that she was still a foreigner; that this kingdom was not the place that she thought of as ‘home’, for all that she would soon be its queen.

“Enjoying the festival?” asked a soft, deep voice from behind her. Touchstone.

She watched his reflection approach in the window.

“It’s quite beautiful.” 

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her ear, and she relaxed into his embrace. They both stared into the night for a while.

“Would you like to see it?” He asked, “The lights are spectacular, and there’s dancing.”

She laughed and lowered a hand to rest on the large swell of her belly. “I hardly think I should dance, even if I could.”

“Well I know that. I meant that the dancers will also be beautiful, even if we are not among them, and the festival has much else to offer.”

This was not the place she thought of as home, but one day it would be. Just because it was not a festival she knew did not mean it was a festival she could not come to love just as much as Yule, though Yule would always hold a special place in her heart. 

She turned to kiss him lightly. “I would love to see the festival.”

\--

As they walked down the Avenue of Stars, Sabriel noticed pine trees set up in between the small merchant booths that lined the street, and there were more pine trees demarcating a large section of the street where a band was playing and people were dancing. They reminded her of the trees that were decorated in Ancelstierre for Yule. 

She stopped abruptly. The trees all had ornaments on them. She walked over to the nearest one, looking at the decorations. There were many ornaments of houses, horses and symbols of trade. Still others were shaped as bells, stars and candles, or even took the forms of various deserts. They were oddly familiar.

“I did not know decorating pine trees was a part of the Festival of Lights.”

“It is a part of the midwinter festival,” replied Touchstone somewhat cryptically, walking over to join her by the tree. “Speaking of which… I have something for you.” 

“Touchstone, you didn’t have to. I didn’t even realize you gave gifts other than lanterns during the Festival of Light.”

Touchstone smiled almost shyly.

“It’s just a little thing.”

He pulled a small, metal ornament out of the pocket of his cloak. On one side it was a two-dimensional rendering of Wyverly, its name engraved at the bottom, and on the other side, it was a half-finished ship with a small figurehead, and engraved beneath it was ‘Holehallow’. 

She studied it, tears rising to her eyes. It was a gorgeous ornament and a touching gesture, and yet she was slightly confused. She had only ever heard of giving people ornaments as a part of Yule. 

“Touchstone. Thank you so much.” 

She kissed him, and he held her close.

“I had a tree put in our solar this evening, and I thought that could be our first ornament.”

Then she realized why the festival seemed so strangely familiar. During Yule, it was traditional that new couples joined their collection of ornaments, but also had one ornament made symbolizing their joining; their past leading to their future.

“You changed the Festival of Light. You added bits of Yule.” She said quietly.

He was still smiling, though he looked more than a little nervous, and she could almost have said his next words for him.

“I hope you don’t mind. The Festival of Light was all but abandoned for many years, and so many of the customs had been forgotten. From what I read and what you mentioned about your Yule, I thought it was a beautiful festival, and much in keeping with the spirit of the Festival of Light, and I thought that perhaps it might be nice to add a few elements from Yule to the Festival of Light, sort of joining the two…” he broke off, running his hand through his curly hair and anxiously trying to gauge her reaction.

She kissed him in reply, and he returned the kiss enthusiastically.

“Thank you.” She murmured. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

They embraced for a long while, before breaking apart and continuing their walk through the festival.

Sabriel missed the careless joy of the Yule’s she’d celebrated at Wyverly, but she knew that she was right in her assessment that she’d come to love this new festival, this midwinter celebration that was both the Festival of Light and Yule, and that celebrated the new Kingdom; their home.

**Author's Note:**

> I considered just making the Ancelstierrian celebration Christmas, considering Ancelstierre is so similar to 1920s England, but I changed the name to that of the pre-Christian version of the Germanic midwinter celebration because there were no mentions of Ancelstierre being distinctly Christian, and I wanted it to feel slightly different from our Christmas. That being said, the only thing that I added that really was included in the celebration of Yule was the fact that the celebration lasted for 12 days, and that ale was the special drink of the celebration.  
> I started to thewellofastarael’s judgement of when Ellimere was born (http://thewellofastarael.tumblr.com/post/103431238163/i-accidentally-calculated-everyones-birthdays), but as I assumed the first celebration of holidays would come during their first winter, almost a year after Kerrigor, I couldn’t figure how that all worked together, so I cheated a bit and decided Ellimere was supposed to be born in early in January, but was instead born in December soon after the holiday; a bit before she was supposed to be. So anywho, that’s why Sabriel is pregnant during this story.


End file.
